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I look at the person,
The one who's staring back,
The old reflection,
Of who I used to be.

Colorful clothes,
Happy eyes,
Innocent and pure,
A perfect mirror.

Now I'm different,
Dark clothing,
Brokenhearted eyes,
A shattered mirror.

7 years of bad luck?
Not me,
I'm a lifetime of bad luck,
An unfixable shattered mirror.
What if...
Everyone got along,
Would there be any fight?
Would there be a sudden war?

What if....
Every day is never boring,
Would there be any complaints?
Would there be any agitation?

What if...
The parents and children love each other,
Would there be any abuse?
Would there be any suicides?

Just think,
"What if,"
So many questions,
And yet so many outcomes.
Winds of high speed
Lift me to the sky
Vision's a blur.
My words slur
Amidst the whirl of dust.
Dirt coats my throat
i think i just saw a boat
And amoung all this madness
All this chaos
All i can think of is you
Its your birthday in two days
I ordered you flowers
And a nice little birthday card lies on my table.
And here i am about to die
i should be praying
i should be crying
But i guess i'll take
Your memory to my grave.
Its too bad
This tornado
Is going to litterally
Rip me
From you
Ever think of someone really important in a dangerous situation?
 Aug 2016 SteffyWeffy
JeanT
I stand by the blue water and look as far as I can
Water isn't what I see as I fade out of reality
I slip back to the night when he took you to dinner
You ordered coffee he ordered whiskey
But you hated the smell of whiskey
And he loved the look in your eyes

Your phone started to buzz
The same buzz as my father sipping on his jack on the rocks
You got a call saying your car was hit
You ran outside
You ran to your death

I wrote "mistrust" on the bullet before I shot you I will never forget the look in your eyes that my father loved
I looked into them as the blood ran from your mouth onto my shoes
You told my father you loved him but it wasn't true

So as I stand here with the water brushing my toes
And the wind giving me a chill
I look out into the sea and realize it is the same color as your eyes
And you were not my friend nor my mother
And everything you said was lies
The Canvas
(c)08-25-2012

A canvas sets on the edge of greatness and beauty, blank, waiting for the touch of the master’s hand. She takes charge of what is to be. Gentle strokes, broad strokes, strokes that caress the canvas… leaving the marks of imagination, transforming nothing into beauty. The image emerges revealing the thoughts and desires and power of the canvas. It is breath-taking to the beholder. She understands the difference between OK and great. Nothing will do but great. It must emulate the original. It must be the original! So it is with our canvas of life.

We start life as a blank canvas. Brush strokes are made by those around us as we begin to grow. Made by mom, dad, friend and strangers alike. All try to add their image to our canvas. An image of who they think we are. As we grow into the artist we strive to be, we accept or reject the strokes of others and create a portrait we strive to become.

Some strokes by others can leave an off color, covering who we really strive to be. A brush stroke that is not us can be covered by our touch, our color, our imagination of who we are, adding integrity to the texture and hue. Revealing an inner beauty as the artist of our life takes control, guiding our hand, adding the touches that transform the canvas from OK to great.

The Artist chooses the colors, the brushes from which she wants to define her life. The decisions are hers to make as she selects the shades of color, or even black and white, that will define her life. She paints a portrait of peace and joy, of self-less love for family and friends.. All else is unimportant. The things of past are covered. Today and tomorrow are forming a painting that will be great.

Letting the Master’s Hand guide our hand, we find freedom flowing freely onto and into our canvas. In doing His will in our life, we are set free. A freedom indescribable at times as we are lost to the distractions of the past. Caught up in the hope and love of today.

The Master guides our hand, willingly or even unwillingly at times in our artistic endeavor. As we learn to relax and give Him control of our hands, He reveals the beauty that is within us. It is great.

I have heard being an artist and painting described as being easy but living life as being difficult and unsure. Life can be described as a series of brush strokes, choices. Some can destroy the beauty intended for our canvas. Some strokes can create breath-taking beauty which radiates outward, inspiring the ones observing our portrait.

This was inspired by a young friend of mine, she left a few brush strokes on my life. They will not be painted over. They will be treasured, remembered for a long time to come.

When I look into a mirror, I want to see Jesus, the Creator of my portrait.
Amazing young lady.  Her paintings are truly works of art.
http://www.capturedmomentsartwork.com/
 Aug 2016 SteffyWeffy
Violet Blue
1am
Sitting on the steps outside
Middle of winter at 1am
Sick
Tears streaming
Heartbroken
Just take me
 Aug 2016 SteffyWeffy
Violet Blue
I want you and your sleepy cuddles at 4AM sleeping next to me while I'm asleep in your jumper holding onto you with my head on your chest as you play gently with my hair to help me fall asleep again
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